


I might be

by Sprocketgasmask



Series: MMFR short stories [1]
Category: Mad Mad (Fury Road), Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Captain Save A Hoe, Drinking to Cope, Drug Use, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-10 18:34:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4402784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sprocketgasmask/pseuds/Sprocketgasmask
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Yeah, Zeus! As in, father of apollo? Mount Olympus? Don't fuck with me or I'll shove a lightning bolt up your ass! '</p><p> Vibrations thrummed along with a voice that no one should have to hear in the dead of night, let alone have to wake up to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't why the hell I started this. It was going to be a fun little snippet. My brain said otherwise.  
> I am having a little fun with AU Slit. I've found an interesting way to justify his true character scars and staples. Yay!  
> Let's see what you guys think.  
> This is just some fun!

It was finally happening.  **Finally.**  

The beautiful blonde, who just so happened to live across the hall, was dropping to her knees. Those sinful, plump lips (often coated In a pale pink gloss) pushed together in a pout that had dear Slit ripping at his belt.

He had been watching her for months, only managing a small conversation that had his teeth sinking to the inside of his meaty cheek. She was hot. Every young boys dream with long legs, a plump ass, and (Dear God) tits he could probably suffocate in.

 It was more than obvious what his spank bank was filled with.

"Goddamnit" A soft curse. His fingers kept snagging the worn buckle, bits of silver paint flaking from the overuse; He had been rigging the damned thing for months, too attached to simply toss it out. A tiny dab of paint here and there, some black zip ties and voila! 

The belt came unhooked with a soft clink, lips stretching over his teeth, hands sweaty and fumbling to pull his throbbing cock free. Air hit and it had a mind of its own,  jerking backwards to hit his black t-shirt, pre-cum smearing in a glossy trail.

The hot bod blonde smiled, pushing strands of straight hair behind her left ear, sitting up higher , face level with the goods. Her lips parted, that tongue poked free, and Slit broke into a cold sweat.

His eyes rolled to hide behind heavy lids, heart racing in anticipation. He was about to get something good. It could be felt in his bones.

  _Yeah, Zeus! As in, father of Apollo-_

Heavy brows furrowed, lips curling into a near snarl. Just why the fuck was that voice loud in his ears? It was fuzzy, rolling around a fog that wasn't making itself known before. Confusion was thick.

Slits eyes shot open and-

_There was no blonde._

The disappointment could have been felt by the dead. 

He stared at his bedroom ceiling, blanket thrown halfway to the floor, naked, painfully hard with a heavy hand wrapped around the very head of his dick. The ring of his Prince Albert tapped along his sweaty palm warning him just how close he had been. 

_Yeah, Zeus! As in, father of apollo? Mount Olympus? Don't fuck with me or I'll shove a lightning bolt up your ass!_

 Vibrations thrummed along with a voice that no one should have to hear in the dead of night, let alone have to wake up to.

For a fleeting moment, Slit had this gnarly idea of rolling over and finishing himself off.  

He couldn't ignore his phone as it went off for the umpteenth time, Samuel Jackson's voice filling his ears once more.

Flaccid.

Grumbling, Slit wondered just who the fuck was calling him at whatever time it was. After the long hours at his steadily held down job, he needed some quiet time. Rebuilding engines, fixing electrical issues and doing the odd paint job here and there wore him down. He didn't even have the time to date properly. Nux swore it was a cop out, that he had more than enough time to wine and dine a girl every now and then. 

_Rust, slit,_ He would argue,  _your brain is turning to rust._

Snatching the worn Nokia from the too cluttered nightstand, Slit winced as a handful of empty beer bottles lost their balance and hit the carpet with a crack, surely slamming into one another, creating a danger zone of broken glass.

 The phones little green button beeped, answering the call just after his thumb slammed into place. "You better have been hit by a fucking car."

The harsh exhale of air hit the speaker on the other side, stinging his ear. "Come get me." 

"Feral?" Brows twisting once again, nose scrunching up, dermal anchors stretching the skin surrounding them in their slide.

 "The bitch threw my fucking keys and I need to get out of here."

Okay..

"Just go and sleep it off. I'm sure she'll be bright eyed and bushy tailed in the morning'." 

This was a rare occurrence, one where Feral and her long time partner fought. He really wasn't too concerned and couldn't get how this warranted the however many phone calls back to back to back. Then again-

A choked sob broke out on the other end. "I caught her." Her voice cracked with a rush of static. " Bitch threw away three years..f-for" Feral cleared her throat. 

"Hang tight." Slits voice was deep, husky even from his previous sleep.

 He dropped the phone, rolled out of bed and began to wonder just what the hell he was getting himself into.

Lesbian drama was a whole new thing for him.


	2. The Infamous Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They all brought something to the table, each having a drop in the bucket of mixed personalities that seemed to make the group a whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another part to this. I couldn't leave it! To the awesome people who added Kudos, Thank You!  
> Kudos and comments are always welcome.
> 
> ;)

_You're my ride or die, motherfucker. You ever need anything, you know what's up._

Those words played over and over, an old conversation where true friends made themselves known. Out of the handful of people Slit considered friends, Feral was riding shotgun with Nux.

The pair had first met at the shop, some five odd years ago. 'Carla's' was a decently sized tattoo/piercing studio where he had hopes of acquiring  an apprenticeship. Unfortunately, they weren't looking for any extra kids to teach. Or so they claimed.                           Feral pulled his true interest within five minutes of bullshitting. She was the one to get him an interview at his current work pit.

_Everyone deserves a chance to do what they love_

After introducing her to the guys, it was history. They all brought something to the table, each having a drop in the bucket of mixed personalities that seemed to make the group a whole. They were a rag tag bunch of folks from a seriously fucked up background. 

How could he not go get her? When it all came down to it, the circumstances didn't matter; a friend needed rescuing and he had to live up to his  _Captain Save A Hoe_ reputation.

Pulling a sharp left onto her road, Slit turned the volume to his car stereo down until the little knob clicked. In all reality the car belonged to both Nux and himself. They were the ones to bring it back to life. Slit put his hard work into the body while Nux built the engine. The paint job was still smooth, slate gray, shiny. So fucking chrome. 

 The five window Chevy coupe was a sight to be seen. Not much room for a group, rather, just enough for himself and one other. That was perfectly alright. He enjoyed what little bit of near quiet time he could get.

  _2022, 2024, 2026_ Slit counted along with the numbers pasted nicely onto the mail boxes posted just at the end of driveways on the right side of  _Sandy Avenue,_ eyeing Ferals within seconds of mouthing the last digits.

"Holy fuck." 

Three cars were parked carefully in the driveway, one obviously belonging to the douche bag that Feral had been talking about. Sadly, he recognized that car. Knew it's driver on a first name basis. 

Rolling to a stop just at the metal mail box, Slit couldn't help but to scrub his large hands over his face, wincing as his meaty fingers caught the staple like dermal anchor tops at the end of his Glasgow grin.

The front lawn seemed normal with its neatly cut lawn, bird feeders, and-

Slit didn't have the opportunity to do a proper scan as the front door burst open and screaming filled the usually quiet area. 

"You don't know a thing! You're always working! Never have time for me!" Norma was screeching at the top of her lungs, bounding down the stairs, no one in tow. A shout, belonging to Feral came from inside, and Norma was flipping shit once again. Something inside smashed into what sounded more like a bull in a China shop. Slit nearly ripped his door off the hinges, car Being left to idle.

His booted feet pounded along the thick grass padding the lawn as his heart raced. Another shout and he was practically running over Norma, sending her to her knees just inside.

The house was a wreck. Broken glass littered the floor, a table turned on it's side, articles of clothing strewn all over. 

He had managed to hop inside just in time to catch Feral headbutting the douche hard enough to make his teeth hurt. The sound was a crack, bouncing off the walls. Blood splattered from the guys already crooked nose. He went down for the count, body hitting hard enough to rattle a few framed pictures on the walls.

Flawless victory.

Norma sat in her spot on the floor, breathing hard. She opened her mouth to say something, only to be cut off by Feral. "I'm the fuck out of here!"

_Bitch don't deserve to say a motherfuckin' word..._

Slit didn't need any other words to get going. He took the cue and followed his friend. She snatched her Black messenger bag  from the couch and kept truckin.

Slit knew her heart was pounding because his was loud in his ears and he hadn't even been involved. A smile spread as he made his way down the lawn, four steps behind.  _Good girl_ he though, not wanting to break the silence just yet.

 

It wasn't until they were both tucked snuggly in the front seats, nearly two miles away that he noticed the split running along Ferals bottom lip. His eyes narrowed, face splitting into a wicked grin, anger practically radiating from every pore on his body. "He uh.." Slit scratched his baby smooth jaw, trying not to flip shit. His blood was Damn near boiling, already knowing the answer to a question not yet asked.

"Did he hit you?"

Feral kicked back in her seat, booted feet going to rest atop the dashboard. She shrugged, long black hair shining a near blue with the street lights. 

"What?" Slit snarled, quickly reaching his breaking point. He jerked his own shoulders into a shrug, steering wheel moving along so that the car swerved Just a bit. "What does that fucking mean?!" 

Blood, just enough, was already drying along that split lip. There were a few speckles along her pale throat and even further up near those gray eyes. Her nose ring shined brightly in the dim lighting as her nostrils flared and she  snarled right  back.

"Yes!  He punched me in the mouth! If all I have is a split lip, then he hits like a fuckin bitch! "

Fuming, Feral began to rummage through her messenger bag, ignoring Slits fit of anger. The car made a sharp turn and the coupe was purring as it began to accelerate, hitting the highway at seventy miles an hour.

Feral finally pulled a silver tin free, shaking its contents, smile growing wide. She looked downright devious. "Open your mouth, your going to attend this fuckin adventure with me."  The little tin was filled with a variety of colored pills, no two the same length or shape. "Its only eleven thirty, Slit. We're gettin lit."

Slit understood the little war going on inside of his friends brain. He knew damn well how it felt. Maybe his never having time to date properly was a cop out. Maybe his brain was turning to rust. 

Accepting his fate, he turned the radio to full blast and opened his mouth. He could feel the subwoofers vibration in his tongue, holding a sense of pride with the glorious sound.

Feral picked out an oblong white pill, holding it by the tips of her wiry fingers to offer up. "Bite it and chew. Take half." Her gray eyes held the train wreck going on inside; Slit could see it all. Like a live wire. Her smile was a well placed lie.

Exhaling sharply, eyes rolling back to the road, he covered her fingers with his mouth and took the pill. A soft crack resounding, the bitter taste filling his mouth. "Tastes like shit." He mumbled, carefully maneuvering the two halves to the tip of his tongue.

Feral was too quiet. Something was going on upstairs. 

Her fingers were soft as they took their time pulling at the now shiny pill. That nose of hers wrinkled only slightly. The two crunched their way past bitter powder, eyes nearly watering.

Within minutes, their pupils were blown. They were both smiling, each on the same wave length. 

"Call the guys!" Feral shouted, gravitating closer to Slit. "Tell Nux to cut the cord and c'mon!"

No one would be showing up for work tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not 100% pleased with this. The next part may be the last. It was still fun to write!


	3. Sets of three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are only two bedrooms in the hallway and it is by memory alone that her hands find the right one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost done!
> 
> Comments are welcome! And..kudos. ;D

Something feels off. Even more than the normal grind life brings. The slide down into oblivion is gone, drug induced haze long worn thin. 

The sun has yet to make its appearance. Its dark, they're still breathing rather loudly, snoring. 

Its cold.

The couch is filled with more bodies than it can truly handle; limbs hang to the floor, bodies tangled in a heap. Coma has made a nest for himself near the front door in a pile of what was once clean laundry. His guitar leans into the coffee table.

Feral finds that she is face down on the floor when her brain begins to wake, still a bit hazy. There's a dull throb too. The pulse in her temple thumps harshly with each breath.

She experimentally wiggles her toes and is confused when carpet is felt. When did she take her shoes off?  _Great.._ Her fingers, nails dull and bitten down to the flesh, dig into the soft floor below. It's much thicker than memory recalls, smells slightly sour.

Feral's stomach gurgles, knots up, little bubbles fighting her throat, muscles constricting. Her wiry limbs fight back when she tries to push herself up. They burn. All she can do is whine when her body, just barely pushing up, plops back into place. 

_Helpless._

Something snaps, rips at every brick wall that's ever been built around her squishy box of feelings, crumbles like a sand castle. She doesn't even try to stop the salty tears burning her wide eyes. Eveything comes back in violent flashes.

_Norma_. Coming home early from the shop to see her usually doting partner. The guilt of always being away. The need to pay all of the bills. The urge to make Norma happy, keep her life easy.

Norma was her queen and she sentenced her to exile.

Feral's body is twitching, back shaking with the sobs that begin to twist her slim figure. Her fingers dig deeper into the floor, past the thick fibers, until they hit something solid. The nipping pain is welcomed, it's a small distraction.

It feels like someone has passed on to the next life. Like a murder, a betrayal. Like everything hurtful that can happen has happened and is hitting all at once.

This outburst is short, violent, and leaves her face tingling. Colors explode in her mind, no particular pattern. Different shades of blue. Gut churning color. 

In the dark, not even a gleaming streetlight through the window, her gray eyes are wide, vision blurred and hazy. Its difficult to make out much more than thick outlines. Making that final attempt at pushing herself up, Feral is victorious. Her limbs are still sore.

 Reaching out, Feral's fingers find purchase against the wall. Its smooth to the touch, cool. Someone must have turned the air on. One foot after the other, her body comes into contact with the barrier, flattening against it, cheek pressing. The cold helps to dull her stomach pain. She breathes in deeply, holds the pressure until it burns, lets go with a small whistle.

The trip into the hallway is clumsy. Her feet are trying to resist their rising, giving thuds in their travel. 

There are only two bedrooms in the hallway and it is by memory alone that her hands find the most important one. Palms slide along the painted wood, skin catching on the rough edges lining the  assortment of deep grooves carved by a previous occupant.

The door knob is cold, soothing just as the wall had been. Feral's fingers twist and her weight is enough to force her inside. She stumbles, giving enough momentum that the door smacks into the wall. It is ridiculously loud in the dark. 

Standing as still as her wobbly form allows, Feral holds her breathe,  waiting for Any sign of a rightfully irritated Slit. 

Sounds come, but they are not from irritation.

Before her eyes can focus well enough, the bedside lamp clicks on and Damn near blinds her. The color is intensified ten fold. 

"Shit.." She curses.

"Feral?" Slits voice is husky, tone confused. He scrubs a large hand over his face, sitting up, stretches both arms over his head, shoulder popping. 

"Hey." Is all she can muster. Her subconscious must recognize this as a safe zone. The colors return in a chaotic symphony of vivid ache. A sniffle. A whimper.

"Come on." Slits voice holds enough authority to have her moving along more easily than she thought possible in her current state. He slides just enough to give her a foot of space to sit. The deep blue comforter is pulled back, allowed the dangle near the floor, just far enough away from his earlier mess of beer bottles. 

Feral slides in, allows her right leg to press into his own. Its warm, soothing. He slides back to rest against the pillows and his warmth crawls up her side. The tears have not yet fallen. They make her gray eyes glassy. 

The situation feels awkward, but only until feral finds herself expressing what's going on inside with words.

"I-I didn't think things were going to end up so fucked. I thought we were going to do family shit. I gave her everything I could. I tried to listen, tried to understand." 

Slits face shows no sign of emotion as he watches the comforter, listens. His chest rises and falls. The black t-shirt, still being worn from the morning before, grows tight and stretches on the exhale.

Its fascinating and She can't understand why.

Swallowing around the growing lump in her throat, Feral continues. "I can't believe I have to work with that Bastard. Him of all motherfucking people."

Laughter erupts from Slit. He can't help but scrub a hand over his face once again. Feral is so confused that her whining dies off and her brows rise. Slits body shakes in his hysteria. His Adams Apple bobs. The smile is alarming, Glasgow grin giving the illusion of Something sinister. The staple like dermal jewelry shines brightly.

She wants to be irritated, needs to be offended. That would be the rational feeling. Instead, the laughter is infectious. It bubbles up and spills, even after he has stopped and has begun to stare. Her throat is raw, each gust of air scraping almost harshly. 

Its a nice distraction.

"F-f..fuck y-" The words are hard to get out. 

 "Alright."

That winds her more quickly than a hit to the gut ever has.

"What?" She squeaks. Her eyes are wide, pupils nothing more than pin pricks. 

In the most serious tone She has ever heard him use, he says "I'm gonna fuck you."

**Author's Note:**

> Watcha think? Should I go on? Keep in Mind, I type this on my dinky phone.  
> Have mercy!


End file.
